Seduction of the Soul
by Mr.DarkPhantom
Summary: What becomes of Sam when she decides to break up with Danny? Did she make the right choice by spliting up with hm? Could she get over him? And who is this new figure in her life? A companion/mini-series to Danny Phantom Unlimited
1. Chapter 1

Seduction of the Soul, part 1

A/N: The events in this story take place during DPU 25, 26, and… well, you get the idea, it's a side story.

Manson house, 05:16 PM.

A day after Sam and Danny split up, or… what was Sam doing while Danny had a date with Val at the Mall?

She lies on her bed, dreary and restless, weeping, trying to understand what went wrong with her relationship this time, remembering the night she splits up with him.

 _"…as much as I can't imagine myself being with another girl… I can't imagine that life together you said you want… Sam, you said you wanted a life with me, you pictured a future together, but I don't. I can't do it. I realize that now.""_

 _"…You'd want me to promise you that I'll love you for the rest of our lives, but I don't wanna make a promise I can't keep…"_

"…you're an idiot!" she cries.

Not a single light beam penetrated into her room through her dark purple curtains, the gloom was the perfect reflection of her soul. Only a vintage lamp lit her room —yet barely— just enough to allow her eyes to see the object of her affliction.

A poster of Danny Phantom fighting ghosts hanging on her wall… She couldn't say what the mere image of him made her feel… pain, rage… love… passion… was it possible for her to feel all those contradicting feelings?

She knew this has always been the case, the ambivalence of their relationship… he was the one guy who made her angry and yet, so happy. He could make her groan and giggle, laugh and cry; Danny was the only person she feels this ravaging desire to punch him in the face and kiss at the same time.

And there were so many other things that he made her feel whenever they were together fighting ghosts, whenever he was there to save the day… to save her…

Seeing this poster of him only made that feeling grow up inside her body as her hand slides down her belly, slowly slithering beneath her skirt, then going inside her G-string and tangles in her pubic hair, only to then touch her pussy…

The area between her legs was quivering with excitement as she thinks about the things she loves about him. The image of Danny becomes the one thing in her mind… his snow-white hair, his glowing green eyes… She thinks of him being there in her room, floating over her bed, that it was his hand touching her and not hers… then rhythmically she increases the speed.

 _Mm-hmm_ … involuntarily she lets out a little moan, imagining Danny's sometimes-warm-and-sometimes-cold breathe on her neck, his lips gently touching her skin and the soft spot between her shoulders and neck, kissing away her pain.

The area between her legs quivers with more excitement—

"Sammy-kins!" Pamela Manson said bursting through her door.

Startled, Sam sprang off her ass; she rapidly takes her hand out of her skirt, hoping she didn't see what she was doing.

"Mom! What are you doing?!" she quickly throws a pillow at her face.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," said approaching to her bed.

"I'm fine! Why do you always have to burst into my room like that, mom? I've told you plenty of times to knock the door first!"

"Well, for Pete's sakes! Why all this overreaction, sweetie? You are so defensive! Were you… masturbating?" Pamela asked.

"Was I mastur—No, Mom!" Sam talks frantic.

"It might not seem like me to say it, but it's ok if you we're masturbating."

"MOM!" she fumed. "Zip it, okay?"

"Is something very natural—"

"No, I don't masturbate!"

"Masturbation is a mother-and-daughter thing to talk about. I think we never really had the chance to have a proper talk about it."

"Mother-daughter thing? Mom, just stop talking about it!"

"Ok, ok. We don't have to call it that word if that makes you uncomfortable," she spoke in an understanding tone.

"Good, 'cause it makes me uncomfortable!"

"We can call it… we can call it Sam's happy time or Sammy's happy hour… "

"Sammy's happy _hour_?" Sam spoke amazed. "Just for how long do you think I would do it!?"

"…or whatever time you like to play with yourself…"

"Yeah, how about none."

"…my special alone time with myself," she continued, oblivious of her daughter's ranting.

"Oh my God, mom!" she cried. "Stop it! Mom, you can't come in just like that and—what do you want?"

"I'm sorry, it's just… I have noticed you've been a bit gloomy… er… than usual ever since you came back from your trip to Minnesota with your… boyfriend," said glaring at Danny's poster on Sam's wall, "so I wanted to know what was bothering you. Is what we mothers do."

"Thanks mom… but I'm fine, really," said sitting with her legs bent.

Quickly, she sits next to her daughter.

"Sammy, I can tell you are upset about something. Did something bad happen back there? Did he… did he do anything to you?" she asked fearing for the worst.

"What!? No! No, you know he wouldn't do anything like that…"

"But something bad happened?"

"Well… he _did_ do something, but…"

… _slowly placing the kitchen knife in her neck holding it by both ends. "Look at me. Look at me, bitch!" Danny ordered retracting his mask. "Look at my eyes and tell me, what does it look like I'm gonna do?" said pointing his eyes at the Lunch Lady's eyes, while holding the kitchen knife on her neck_ …

"But is nothing you should worry about, mom. Really, just… hunter business," says quickly, trying to forget how Danny decapitated the Lunch Lady and how much he seemed to enjoy it.

"Sweetie, I know you wouldn't spend _this_ much time in your room with _this_ long face if something important hadn't happen," said holding her daughter's chin lovingly. "So tell me what happened. Did you kids have another fight?"

"We're not kids, we're almost adults! And why would you wanna know?"

"Come on sweetie. You know you can trust me, I'm your mother. Who else could you talk to about this?"

Taking a deep breathe, she decides to talk about her real problem and do the one thing she swore she'd never do: ask her mother for advice.

"Mom… how did you… how did you know dad was the _one_?" Sam managed to say.

"Oh… so _that's_ what this is about," Pamela said. "Well, that's… not an easy question."

"I don't need to hear all the telenovela you two lived, I just wanna know how did you know—how do I know I've found the right one?"

"Well, in my case… I guess it was when I felt comfortable going to the bathroom without shutting the door."

"What?" she asks in shock. "You're joking, right?"

"Now you know how it feels when you get a snappy answer," she smiled.

Sam giggles faintly.

"Ok, good one."

"There is that smile I love," Pamela said hugging her daughter.

"Ok, but seriously… how did you know it was him?"

Pamela sighs deeply, figuring out a way to answer her question. She never believed she would ever have this conversation with her daughter.

"Well… as you know I have a very strong personality like you," she said.

"Yeah, we… can say that… I strongly disagree."

"And every other guy I'd dated before him would just say 'Ok, you're mad, let me leave you alone stewing on your own madness.' Or 'bitch, you're acting crazy, I'm out of here.' But your father, Jeremy, he actually fought back. It was a slap in the face, but I realized that if he respected me and loved me enough to _not_ walk away but stand up to me instead and tell me what I needed to hear even when if I didn't believe it, then he was a keeper."

"Fight back and tell me am wrong? That's not a problem with Danny."

"But he not only fought me, he fought _with_ me," she went on. "Most couples, they just fight each other, and that's natural, but a good couple also fights together. They support each other instead of getting in their way. Of course, it took me a lot more trail and error than I'd like to admit to learn that."

"But… what if he doesn't feel the same?" Sam asked. "I love him, but Danny…"

"Does he love you back?"

"He does, but… when we came back he said he doesn't know if he wants a future with me…" she wept.

"Sweetheart, let me tell you something no teenager ever believes, but I guarantee you is the absolute truth. Not all love is true. You fall in love more than once. It will happen again. It will be just as amazing and extraordinary as the first time and maybe, well definitely, just as painful. But it'll happen again. I promise. But not all of them will be the one, and even when you think he's the one, he isn't, because you're too young to know what you want or what you need."

"No I'm not!"

Pamela giggles. "I said the same thing when I was your age, and if I hadn't listen to my mom when she said that to me, well, let's say you wouldn't be here."

Sam bites her bottom lip looking prone.

"Tell me, did you guys did it already?" Pamela asked.

"What!?" Sam whispered.

"Well, I've heard rumors and—"

"Danny and I haven't had any sex, ok?" Sam cuts her off. "I'm still a virgin, if that's what you're worried about. So no need to panic for getting a grandchild before time."

"Well, I wasn't worrying about that… yet. But thanks for getting that out of my hair."

"You're welcome."

"Just hope you feel comfortable enough to tell me when you feel like doing it," said looking at her daughter. "Unless… you already do, don't you?"

"I… yes."

"I see… That explains everything. I shouldn't be so surprised. I'm just glad you haven't done anything you can regret."

"That's the thing, I… I wanted to do it. We tried several times, but when we are about to I… I just can't. I feel like I shouldn't do it even though every part of me really wants to!" she said. "This couple counselor we met on a cave sort of made me realize I have intimacy issues."

"Wait, you had couple's therapy in a cave while hunting?"

"Yeah, but that was just a second job. Hunting monsters doesn't really pay the bills."

"I assumed as much."

"And I don't even know why. I want to be with him, I thought having sex would bring us closer, but I just can't do it."

"That's why he left you!?"

"No! He actually asked me if _I_ was sure I wanted to do it, like a lot of times. I kept saying yes, but turns I'm not."

"So he didn't push you?"

"No, more like I was pushing myself, pushing us both. He was fine with not having sex."

"Yeah right. Then why aren't you with him now?"

"Because I just thought it'd be good for us to take a stepback in our relationship, have some time for ourselves," said with a tear dropping off her face.

"Oh my poor confused baby," Pamela said hugging her daughter before she started crying. "This is what I meant when I said you don't know what you want," she cleaned her tears.

"Not helping, mom."

"But I'm right. Now listen, you're a wonderful girl, even with all this gloom around you, —he's lucky to have you as his girlfriend, and if you really are meant to be together then you'll get through whatever problem you're facing now. But if you don't, then don't mourn over that kid, you don't need him. You can always get better than him."

Sam sobbed.

"Thanks mom."


	2. Chapter 2

Seduction of the Soul, part 2

A/N: The events in this story take place during DPU 25, 26, and so on, but why would I need to tell you this? If you're reading part 2, then you clearly read part 1 in the previous story? I mean who reads part 2 without reading part 1?

05:52 PM

Skulk and Lurk.

Her conversation with her mother was both, one of the most awkward and yet, most helpful conversations she's had with her. It didn't really solve her problems, but it gave her some clarity. Maybe she was rushing things with Danny by forcing herself to sleep with him, thinking he was the one she wanted future with. How could she say that when she doesn't even know what she wants to do with her life!?

Screw him! She doesn't need Danny! She can do way better than him any day! Sam knew very damn well she could get any guy she wanted if she tried—but, oh, who's she fooling with this? Surely she could get any guy she wanted, but she just wanted him. Danny was more unique than the other guys; he is a half-ghost hero! How could she ever do better than that?

 _"_ _…_ _I'm here. But where are you? Sure, I see your body, anybody home in that rotting bag of flesh?"_ Andrea, the fat Goth girl of tonight's reading, sounded on the microphone before leaving stage.

What a bummer!

Not even the overbrooding amateur goth poetry of tonight could bring her up. What was wrong with her?

"You know, it always breaks my heart to see a poor rich girl so sad," a young lad sitting next to her said.

Curious, she turns around to see who he was. Immediately she realized she didn't know this bloke; he didn't seem to belong to this place either. Other than the long dark shoulder-length hair, which he had pulled back and slick ending in a ponytail, the dark trimming around his eyes and the Mick Jagger outfit, there was nothing goth on him; he was easily ten years older than her, but he had this vibrant, youthful appearance, with broad chest, and she had to admit he was shockingly good-looking! His face was pale under the artificial twilight of the bookstore, he had a goatee like that of a villain but she could see that his features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect with dreamy cheekbones. Sam has never seen someone that handsome before, at least not in this brooding hole; he was definitely new around here, so how could he know she is rich?

"How do you know that!? How do you know I'm rich? Do I give off a rich stench now?"

"Yeah. I take it is Chanel 666."

Sam sniffs her tank-top realizing she had her mother's perfume all over her.

"Damn!"

"You know, I never really understood why a privileged girl from a rich family would become a goth only to hang in a place like this? Really what could possibly be so bad about your life? Is it your loving parents? I bet is your loving parents. Nothing brings down the moral more than the love and concern of your parents."

"Hey, you're not who to talk!" she shouted.

"I stroke a nerve. So they _are_ loving."

"Yeah, so loving they suffocate me! My parents don't even bother to understand I'm a unique individual and… oh, who am I kidding, am not even in the mood for this," said bending over her table again. "And for the record I'm not upset about them."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"…no…" she sighs.

"Let me guess, if it's not your parents, then it must be your boyfriend or… girlfriend?"

Sam wipes her head looking at him shocked.

"I take it by the look in your face that is a boyfriend."

"What do you even care about?"

"Well, for starters, your attitude is bring down the mood in this place," he began with a grin on his face.

"Ok, I think I found myself a comedian here," she said with a little smile. "Sorry to break it up to you, but the comedy club with open mic is on front."

"And here I thought everyone was mopping because I haven't been at stage yet."

She couldn't explain it, but there was something vaguely familiar about this stranger, and he gave her this feeling of both, comfort and mistrust.

"The name is Sam," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and then offering her hand to shake.

"Damian," he said taking her hand and gently kissing it.

"Woa, an old school gentlemen," she giggles nervously, getting her hand back. "I, uh… you… didn't strike me as that type."

"You can say that. So, I'm guessing you're not old enough to go to a bar and talk your problems to the bartender."

"You like to take a lot of guesses."

"Have I missed so far?"

"Hey, I can drink! Only not with my real I.D."

"It's okay. I wouldn't pay attention to you if I got drunk anyway."

"What makes you think I would take a drink from a stranger."

"Good call. You don't wanna end up inside a bathtub in a motel with your liver carved out."

"Right, because _that's_ the biggest danger."

"Oh, do I look like a serial killer to you?"

"Serial killers don't look like serial killers."

"I know The Zodiac and Dahmer didn't."

"The Zodiac was never caught."

"Because he didn't look as a serial killer, otherwise people woulda noticed at the market."

"You know you're not helping your case, don't you?"

"Ah, but I got you talking," he went on with a smirk.

"Don't think so high of yourself, is either a stranger on a bookstore of a stranger or a stranger on the Internet. At least this is one faster."

"And with many potential witnesses."

"Exactly."

"If only this place had an actual lighting; it would make it difficult for me to slice your throat if I wanted."

"Wow. What happened to the old school gentlemen?"

"He went hiking."

"You really are not good at this."

"Sorry, I never knew how to talk to a pretty girl."

"Thanks… Uh, I gotta make a call to my boyfriend, the ghost boy. You probably heard of him on the news."

"You mean the _half-ghost_ superhero, yeah. I know a lot about him actually."

Meanwhile at the Millennium Mall, or simply DPU issue 25.

"I don't know. I kinda like the idea of seeing your nipples without having to take off your shirt," Valerie jokes with Danny.

"Still not happening," he laughed before his phone began ringing.

" _Baby got back! Little in the middle but you got much back._ "

"Is Sir Mixalot your ringtone?"

"Uh, no," he denies.

"Then why is it coming from your butt?"

" _Little in the middle but you got much back._ "

"Because, uh… Ok, I can make this work, uh…"

" _Little in the middle but you much back._ "

"Baby, you better get that before you get much back," she suggest in a jocular tone.

"Ok. Uh, is Sam," he says with a not-so-happy look on his face.

"Aren't you gonna answer?" Val asks, seeing how the phone kept ringing.

After mulling for a few seconds, he decides to deny the call.

"Come on, Danny. Pick up!" Sam says in whisper.

"No. She said we needed space. I'll give her space. Besides, I'm with you now, I like being with you."

"Wow, thanks. I guess…"

Which leads back to this…

"Great! The one time I need you to pick up, and you block my number."

"I suppose I should go away and not scare you anymore. Is that what you want?"

"What? Eh… I'm sorry, I just… I don't know," she says exasperated with both hands on her forehead.

"Well, I don't know what kind of problem you got with your boyfriend, but I'm sure is not something you get to solve with a phone call."

"No is not," she sighs.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But as I said I just don't know how to talk to a pretty girl."

"Well how about _not_ talking about serial killers? That's good way."

"Hey, it's called true crime. It's a hobby."

"No, collecting Japanese trading cards is hobby. This, this is sick."

"Really, you're telling me _you_ don't find that interesting? I would have guess that plays right in your wheel house."

"Yeah, not really."

"Anyway, if there is a real crime here, is whatever your boyfriend's done to you. To make a girl as cute as you sadder than this place…"

"Yeah, he's an idiot…" mourns Sam.

"Listen Sam, you look as a very smart girl…"

"Guilty of charges."

"And honestly, I don't know much about relationships."

"But…?"

"But what?"

"I don't know much about relationships, but…?"

"No, that's it. I don't know much about relationships, I had only two girlfriends before and it was the same with both. First is all love, but then is fighting all the time. Hell, at least with my first ex, who was very much like you I must say, it was only arguing, but the second one, you know what we used to do? We had a shoot out. It was very ghetto-esque, we literally tried to kill each other and the entire city had to pay for our quarrel."

"How helpful," says with a peeved look.

"I bet your rich girl upbringing sounds better now."

"Yes, it does."

Damian looks at his watch getting out of the table.

"Well, not like this isn't fun…"

"Because I'm having the time of my life here."

"…but I got an agenda to keep and I'm out of time, so I gotta go."

"Well, don't let me keep you here."

"But hey, if you ever feel like you need a new friend," said getting a black presentation card out of his black leather jacket, "just give me call."

"Sure I will," said taking his phone number with jealousy, reading his full name. "Damian Specter?"

Sam raises her head realizing he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Seduction of the Soul, part 3

A/N: The events in this story take place during DPU 26.

Manson Mansion, 09:06 PM.

That evening Pamela was struck with shock when she saw her daughter walking down the stairs with her best look, wearing a black minidress with a pentagram cleavage, held tightly around the waist by a purple belt with a skull-on-a-broken-heart silver buckle. On top, she wore a small ivory leather shrug, and what had to be… designer combat boots(?), that ended inches below her adorable knees. Around her neck she wore a black choker adorned with an actual-gold Ank with a real red ruby, a little lacy but otherwise complementing the outfit. But the most impressive part of that vision was that she was wearing make up! Not the gloom and unbeautiful goth make up she wears every day —she rarely wears a different make up, if not ever!— but what she defined as her "dating make up," that had amazingly two different colors!

She has never seen her with anything other than black and purple, but here she had pink cheeks, she applied glow in the dark Cherry Red lipstick, and dark green glittering eye shadow that contrasted with her beautiful purple eyes. It wasn't too exaggerated to make her look as a clown, or too scarce to go unnoticed, it was just enough. Enough to say her daughter look phenomenal, and combined with her new blunt bob cut with red highlights that she got a few weeks ago, she looked as a completely different person.

And to make things better she was in an uncharacteristic good mood, as though all the problems of the world were gone.

What made the look complete, however, what made her daughter look so fabulous was this strange sense of confidence she literally got on one night.

Sam was always withdrawn and aloof, except when it came to rage against everything she and her father stand for; but she always knew that was just a defense mechanism, a chasm she made to keep herself from getting hurt.

Sam had always been an attractive girl, just understated, Pamela always thought, who did not try to distinguish herself from other girls, not in a good way at least. But the Sam that walked down those stairs tonight knew very damn well that she was somebody—that she was more than anyone else and no one could prove her otherwise. She was the heartbreaker.

Now, as Pamela gaped in awe, Sam came down slowly, like a beauty-pageant contestant; and now she remembers, she has won two of those: one when she was seven and the other one seven years later, though her boyfriend was the judge so it wasn't much of a fair win. Maybe in a few years, when seven years had passed since her las contest, she'd win a third one.

"Looks like somebody's got a date," she said, glad to see her daughter happy again. "Did you manage to fix things again with your boyfriend?"

"Uh… No… we haven't talked all day," Sam said, putting on her red skull earrings made of pure garnet, "I just… I thought I needed a change. Going out on my own, you know. Go to a club, dance a little bit, use dad's black credit card for a change," she murmured this last line to herself. "Clear my mind out of Danny."

"Are you sure there's not a meeting with a special somebody?" she winked her eye.

"No, mom! There's not a special somebody," she growled.

"Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything," she began again, "but if you don't want to, it's ok. Just call when you want me to pick you up. And remember to be careful with what you drink; never drink anything from a stranger—God knows what would they put in your drink to do all kinds of—" then she stops her ranting for a moment to look for something on her purse, a red crazy straw she hands to her daughter.

"Ah, what is this for?"

"Is a special straw, it changes color if your drink has any drug in it."

"Woa. Uh… Thanks, mom…" said confused, taking the straw. What would her mom need one of this for? "I hope it stays red," claims leaving the house, putting it inside her black purse.

Sam leaves the house with a smile on her face and a sense that the world belong to her, that she could and would do anything. This, Pamela admitted (with maybe-big-or-maybe-small shame), was the child that she had dreamed of having—the Sam that could make the world tremble at her not-so-small feet with stunning brains and breathtaking beauty, but most important, the living proof that she was an excellent parent— better than her mother.

Crowley's Hell, 09:51 PM

For more than fifteen minutes Sam sat in the redly lit dinning section of this club she has only heard about in whispers, drinking red wine while waiting for the coming of a stranger that she met last night. Why would he ask her to meet him here? And what kind of place has a light fixture that displays a red pentagram on the ceiling!? Not like she didn't like it, actually it totally goes with the theme, but it was really strange even for her.

She doesn't know why would she even decide to call him and why she agreed on having a date with him in a place like this where she could only enter because she had the surname Manson on her ID, despite still being underage. It is just not like her, she's never done something like this, going out on a date with a complete stranger who calls her pretty like she did with Elliot…

Danny is right. Maybe she should think things through, especially when somebody tells her she's pretty. _What the Hell, Sam?! You're smarter than this!_ she thought with her right hand on her forehead, glaring at the flame of her crimson candle, _…_ _and if he doesn't show up before I'm done with this grape juice that burns, well is his lose_ _…_ _his lose? What the Hell do I mean with that?! Ugh, I don't even know what I'm thinking about._

Sam was almost done with her wine. Then he finally shows up just when Sam was seconds away from getting up and running the hell out of this club.

She had to admit she was glad to see him.

Now that she could see him under a better light, she realized, as he got closer to their table, that not only he was tall and muscular, even imposing, but he also had the same kind of good looks as Danny.

Was she seeing things right or was she hallucinating?

He wore an all-silver three-piece suit with a platinum tie, and only a black shirt, and _gamusa_ shoes. She reckoned he was the ultimate good looker. Was this guy really into her? Would he try to seduce her somehow? She couldn't know for sure, this was something so new for her.

"Hell-o there, Zoolander," she greets with a coy smile.

"Hi. I'm sorry for the delay, I had some business to attend first," explained pulling his seat.

"Business?"

"Yes. Long story short, I just performed a hostile takeover of a rival company," said siting on the table; his hair was slick and tied in a flowing ponytail just as yesterday.

"Sounds interesting."

"You might think that, but I wouldn't like that to be our theme of conversation."

"Really, I would like to hear about that. Because your card says you're a psychic investigator."

"I am, but I like to diverse, to multitask, going from place to place, and leave my mark on the world so people knows I was here. So I started a new company, and it's been keeping me very busy lately. Just now I had to fly to get here for our date," he explained.

"So this is a date?"

"Well, that's what I labeled in my schedule."

"Glad to know," she lowered her face to hide a smile.

"So… why don't you tell me more about you?"

"Like what? What would tall, dark and handsome like to know about me?"

"Well, for starters, why would such a cute girl as you go goth?" he began.

"You know, being called too cute to be goth is not as much of a compliment as you might think."

"Sorry, does it bother you I call you cute?"

"Never said it did," she smiled, then pretended to read the menu, barely glimpsing at it. "Just saying, we goths come in too many shapes. Even in multicolored teddy bear shapes."

"What?"

"Long story," she waved her hand, as to say _I don't wanna talk about it_. "I'll tell you why; if you tell me what were you doing there in the bookstore yesterday."

"I usually like to see other people's alleged pain whenever I feel down, it brings up my mood to see those who believe to know misery talk about it. They think they know real pain because they don't fit in or some crap like that, but they have never even been to third world country where every street is a war zone. That's real misery. Most goths are prone to histrionic, but you… you seemed to be different, real."

"Well, that, eh…" she stammered pulling her hair behind her ear, "honestly… I'm no different from them," she admitted. "The reason I became Goth is nearly the same as everyone in that bookstore I think."

"Which are…?"

"You know… just stupid kid stuff, I guess, like thinking dark stuff are cool because it has the word 'dark' on it, or feeling it was the one way to be unique and different from others, to express how I feel about my parents…"

"And how do you feel about them?"

"Is this a shrink session?"

"Just trying to make some conversation, though my sister always had a knack for that."

"They made me feel bad, angry…" she raised her voice slightly in anger. "I remember my mom used to call me her little piggy when I was little," she clenched her fist. "They would always threw away my posters. Never nurtured my self-esteem or personality, tried to mold me after them. Just slowly… steadily… grinding away at my soul. Trying to make me… disappear. To turn me into a shallow porcelain doll they can show to everyone."

"Well, you're quite pale," said trying to hold his laugh.

"Are you laughing? 'Cause you're not exactly tanned."

"No, no…" said trying to sound serious. "No laughing."

Sam was peeved.

"This is a big joke to you."

"Everything is a joke when you look at it from above… I bet you wish them away, don't you?"

Sam looked the other way, thinking about this question. "Sometimes…" she admitted, "sometimes… they are good parents though," said thinking how her mom _tried_ to cheer her up yesterday.

"Speaking from experience… it is not the same to say we want them out of our lives, as to watch them fade away in a massive ball of flames," said reaching her fist, holding it gently. "They're our parents no matter, and yours, they might not get any Mom and Dad of the year award, or be the coolest and most open minded parents of all, but I am pretty sure they are always there for you whenever you need them, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right on that," she thought back, unclenching her fist.

"You know, I remember I used to give my father a lot trouble and never appreciated what he did for me. I was always bitching about how he embarrassed me in front of my friends. Then there was this one time, we were working on a haunting by a red-eyed ghost from Wisconsin, he was like way too powerful for me. I was nothing to him. It would have killed me because for going against him alone. Then someone shouts my name, it was my old man. And it was so scary because he's just standing there silent, face-to-face with that ghost. I couldn't even look him in the eye, he was scarier than the ghost."

"Let me guess, he saved you that night, didn't he?'

"Yes, he risked his life that night, and for what? For a whiner who complained about how much he embarrassed him and got treated as a child. I remember telling him that I hated him many time. After the fight he looked at me and said, 'Son, you don't like me that's fine. It's not my job to be liked. It's my job to raise you right.'"

"Wow… if… only my parents weren't so afraid of ghosts," she chuckled nervously. "What happened after that?"

"He died along with my whole family."

Sam opens her eyes in shock. "You serious?"

"What did you think I meant before? That's why I wear this," said he, showing a silver skull ring on his right hand," it's a _memento_ _mori_. Unlike your boyfriend, I've hunted real ghostly threats, the ones that won't appear in the news or haunt the streets because they know not to draw for attention. The ones who matter, the ones he can't find, because he doesn't know they exist… The ones that would burn your whole family just for the hell of it. "

"Wow… I… I'm sorry. Your dad, he sounded like a great guy," said not knowing what to think. "What did you do then?"

"After that I went to live with a friend of the family, but I was so pissed I eventually ran away and went down a dark path, lived a very self-and-others-destructive live full of bad choices, with chaos as my drug of choice. Luckily I grew out of it. But enough of that! The past is in the past, what matters is the now and the future. But most important the now."

"Why do I feel like hugging my mom and dad now?" Sam said. "You know, I don't know why, but there is something about you that looks so familiar," she admitted.

"Yeah, I got one of those faces."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Now that he sits in front of her, she was totally sure—there was not a spec of doubt in her mind! He looked exactly like Danny, only but taller, with muscles and… well to put it simple, he was as a grown up and better looking version of Danny. She didn't know—she didn't understand how she could have missed something like that before. It was the same dark hair, the same fair skin, and the same good looks, only but more "sensual," so to speak. But his hair was straight, not wavy or spiky, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue, with the glitter of a frozen lake reflecting the midnight sky.

Who was he, and why did he look so much as Danny?

She pondered on these questions while he reads the menu.


	4. Chapter 4

Seduction of the Soul, part 4

Crowley's Hell, 09:59 PM

Damian orders a rare beef, which (surprisingly) doesn't upsets Sam as much as it did in the past since she's used to Danny doing the same, whereas she orders a salad as usual. As they wait for their orders, the kept talking and somehow Damian turns the conversation about serial killers' stats and even stranger, Sam was really into it.

"…The Zodiac?" asks she.

"Seven victims," he replies.

"Dahmer?"

"Seventeen."

Sam is impressed.

"And you know this by heart? That's some freaky stuff, man. It's a whole new side of you," says hiding a smile.

"Ii told you, it's called true crime, deary. It's my hobby."

"No. Dirt biking, gambling… that's a hobby, okay?" Sam argues. "Collecting serial-killer stats …that's …that is an illness."

"Whatever. I guess I am a sick man," he laughs.

"You sure are," she agrees with a smile plastered on her face.

A man, middle aged looking, sitting on the table to their right, constantly looks at a pocket watch he keeps in his turquoise waistcoat; he wears a three-piece suit with a grey trench-coat on top. Sam caught a glimpse of him on the corner of her eye, and thought he was like the White Rabbit from Alice, since he had been doing so for as long she has been there.

Looking at him, all she could think was that it would be very sad if he was waiting for a date, somebody he met online but who is not going to show up and hoped she would never get to that.

"Excuse me sir, are you ready to order?" a waiter says.

"You see that?" says he, showing him his silver watch which has something engraved on it, but she couldn't see it right. "You came at ten o'clock exactly. I knew you would do that."

"Sure I did sir," the waiter agrees only to play along. "Is there anything in the menu you would like to order now, or are you still waiting for somebody to come?"

"I wasn't just waiting for somebody, I was waiting for the right time. Now you are here, at the right moment," says putting his watch inside his jacket, and quickly pulling out a 22 caliber semi automatic gun, shooting the waiter in the chest.

The body drops on the floor bleeding profusely as everyone screams, looking at the old man in shock. Rapidly, he gets on his feet and shoots the security staff in the head before they even reach for their guns.

"You, I know who you are," he says, taking Sam by the arm.

"Well, I seem to be getting popular lately. Hey, what are you doing!? Let me go!" Sam screams, struggling to break his grip, but this feeble-looking old man is much stronger than he seemed at first. His clutch is as strong as that of professional wrestler.

"Quiet!" says putting the gun on her head.

Sam's face drained of color. She starts freaking out. Sam has faced danger before, but never a man with a gun, willing to kill for no reason. She would later realize the irony of her situation, she could fight ghosts with no problems, but a man with a gun aiming at her, no way.

"You are Samantha Manson, born in May 23, 1992. Seventeen years old, student at Casper High since kindergarten. Your grandmother was a survivor of the holocaust, her tattoo number is 214782 and your grandfather…" he pauses for a moment, "he was lucky to die married to such a lovely woman," he says at last.

"Ok… I… how do you know all that?" Sam asks astonished. She didn't even know her grandmother was a holocaust survivor. So how could he?

"I know more than you can imagine. Your status in social web sites say you're in a relationship with Daniel Fenton, otherwise known as Danny Phantom; you've been in love with him since you were ten, but currently you have decided to split up because you couldn't see eye to eye about your future together. Something your parents are glad for, since they never approved your relationship. You hate them for that. Now let me tell you a secret about the future, in exactly 2,10 seconds, three more men from security will come down with guns blazing but they will not shot. Why? Because they will recognize you as a Manson and they cannot risk hurting you."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You don't know the secrets your father has," says shooting a man coming from behind without even looking at him. "The owner of this club, the employees and almost every member know his name, they are his best clients after all."

"My dad works at an insurance company."

The two other men stood still pointing at them, but unwilling to open fire, afraid they might hurt Sam.

"He sure does, but did you ever wonder how is it he made so much money? Or better yet, how is it your grandfather became so rich with an invention that doesn't even exist!?"

"What? Look… I don't know what are you talking about."

"Of course you don't," immediately, he shoots the other two guards on the head. "You don't need to know. You will never know. You!" he points his gun at Damian. "Get up!"

"Woa. Easy man, you don't wanna do this," says at last as he slowly gets up.

Damian swallows

"You don't know what I want."

"Ok, you're right on that. I don't know why would you come to this club to shoot at people and randomly say things about them. But I do know that right now the police is on its way here and you will not get your way. Whatever that is, unless… your plan is suicide by cop."

"Oh, I know that exactly 3,25 seconds after I shot him, the alarm went off and that in exactly ten minutes with forty seven seconds the police will burst through those doors as terrorists at a nun convention."

"Well, that is a vivid way to put it."

"And that is more than enough time to do what I came here to do here."

"Which is to hurt an innocent girl who has never seen you before?"

"She is not innocent! In the next twenty-two years, the world shall fall apart and it will all be because of her."

"Ok, _now_ we're talking crazy," Sam says. "When you wanna make sense, just let me know."

"You will be responsible for bringing to this world, the biggest evil that has ever existed."

"Look, I just met the girl yesterday, but can tell you she is not a threat."

"You don't understand. She will grow up to be the most dangerous eco-terrorist in history, and spawn the worst evil of all."

"Well, that I believe you," she says, "but I still don't see how is that such a bad thing."

"Of course you don't. You have never seen the wrong in your actions, the harm and damage you cause to people around you. How you abuse them."

"I've heard enough, listen, why don't you let her go, sit down and then we talk about this?" Damian suggests.

Then the man shoots Damian on his left foot as a warning.

Damian jumps; the bullet didn't hit him, but he wanted to kill this old man with his bare hands.

Sam lets out a loud scream.

"Silence! I could kill you right know, so easily, pull the trigger. But time will prove you are what we call, a necessary evil."

"Then why kill her?" asks Damian.

"Yeah, ok. I don't have snappy answer for that," Sam says, "so I'm just gonna try not to tell you how crazy you sound so you won't shoot me."

"No. I know you won't stop talking, you're always saying the wrong things, even when you know they will cause more harm than good. Except this time you will actually _try_ your best to keep your mouth shut, you need to learn the consequences of your actions. But I still see that fire in your eyes that says you would and could kick my ass if you had to. Now watch this," says turning the gun on Damian, "he acts so paragon, so charming in his shining clothes, all a silvery white knight, but in exactly ten seconds, things will get very, very dark."

Suddenly, all lights around the club began flickering and the temperature drastically falls in an instance. The temperature in the room might have drooped ten degrees. Sam gets the goosebumps.

"What is going on now?" Sam asks, shivering. It was so cold they could seen their breaths.

"Prepare, because in the next six seconds, we will see his true colors, and by colors… I mean all black," the old man smiled.

A muscle was jumping in Damian's jaw. He glared at them tilting his head as a snake, but seemed unable to say anything else, and for a second Sam believed to have seen two fangs peering in his mouth and his eyes flashing red—

Then all lights go out!

Everything was absolute darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Seduction of the Soul, part 5

Crowley's Hell, 10:02 PM

Sam's cherry red painted lips glow intensively in the middle of this all-consuming pitch blackness as she felt the warm end of the gun touching her head and the hand of her captor grasping her arm so tightly, that she could feel how her arm was numbing. But suddenly her arm is released, blood began flowing again.

Sam moves as fast as she could hiding beneath the table by sheer memory, hoping he wouldn't guess where she is, hoping he would miss if he shoots her. She couldn't see what was happening, but she felt there was a struggle behind her, then she hears two gunshots!

Sam screams one more time, covering her head with her hands realizing she wasn't hit, but what about Damian?! She couldn't see what happened to him! She wished he was okay.

She wanted all this madness to be over.

Then, as sudden as they left, all lights began working again and she could see him again, standing in front of her, holding the man's gun.

Damian drops the gun next to the lifeless body of the old man. Sam couldn't wrap her mind around what just happened, she couldn't even begin to fathom what was this all about! What was the goal of this old man? Whatever it was, his secret is now gone, she was alive thanks to Damian. She was grateful for that.

The Park, 10:28 PM.

"Are you sure we should have left without waiting for the police to take our statement? I mean, you pretty much shot the man," Sam says as they walk on the park, arm hooked as if they were a couple.

"Excuse me, did you see me going all Bourne Supremacy on him, taking his gun and then shooting him? 'Cuz I recall it was all dark, no witness could certify such display of badassness," he grinned.

"You're right. I didn't."

"Well, that's a shame. Cause it was awesome… if it had happened, of course."

"You know what? I'm not even going to argue that," she smiled. "You saved me, and that's what matters. Thank you for that. I… cannot thank you enough."

"You're welcome for… allegedly saving your life."

"Right… allegedly."

"I'm guessing after this, all plans I had would be… I don't know what word I'm looking for, but I'm sure you don't wanna dance anymore."

"No, he really killed the mood."

"Then I guess it'll have to be another night. If you want, of course."

"Honestly… I don't know what I want," she sighed.

"Well that's not true, you want what everybody wants," he counters.

"What? A mysterious stranger who has all the answers?"

"Well let's just say I've been around a long time, I've learned a few things."

"So Damian, tell me, what is it that I want?"

"You want a love that consumes you. You want passion," said pulling her closer, only her small hands separated her from his broad chest, "and adventure, and even a little danger."

"Yeah, I already have those in my life…" said barely trying to separate herself from him. "In fact I think I had a bit too much of danger tonight for a week."

"If you had that love you want, you wouldn't be here tonight… with me," he argued, letting her go gently.

"Right… maybe," she said looking prone with her arms folded.

"You deserve that, you know that?" Damian says, grabbing her by the waist with one hand, and lifting her chin with the other. Damian gently holds her face in such a way, it seemed almost as though they were lovers. She thought for a second he wanted to kiss her. Sam would not wait for that to happen.

Tip-toeing on her boots, she ran her fingers threw his hair, putting her right hand on the back of his head, and pounces over, surprising him with a kiss on his lips. His eyes open wide in wonder. Her neon red pouty lips meet his lips. He tasted like pure, wicked sin, but yet, there was something about him that felt so… familiar, and she liked it. He slid his hand from her waist to her head, caressing her hair. Their kiss turns hungrier, their tongues were tangling, her neck was starting to sore from her awkward position — he was a bit too tall for her, but she didn't care, she was delighted, he was a good kisser. She gasped and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, gliding it against hers in a sinuous dance.

Sam undulated her body against him, releasing a muffed groan for her efforts; she couldn't explain it, but this felt just right, she wanted this to go on, yet Damian had to stop it forcing the teen's tongue to plop out of his mouth, trailing a stream of saliva.

"Ok… that was… unexpected… and nice. I like how your lips taste like cherry pie," he grinned.

"Sorry! I… don't know what happened to me…" she covered her face in embarrassment.

"Why? Don't be. I… I liked it, it was a good kiss. You're a good kisser."

"You too…" Sam blushed turning redder than ever before. "Let's just… pretend it didn't happen," she pleaded.

"Ok…"

"…so… what do you want?"

Damian takes a breathe, and looks at her face as though he wanted to memorize. Then her cellphone rings; she had Slipknot's Psychosocial as ringtone.

"That's my parents. They must be wondering how am I doing. I hope you don't mind…"

Sam turns around to answer the call, telling her mother she was at the park and that she was doing fine. Once she finished the call, she turns around to face Damian again.

"So, where were we?"

Damian grabs her face one more time, only but with both hands and stares at her purple eyes without saying a word and gave Sam a swift, piercing look. Then his dark blue eyes began glowing red as the sclera turns black, a darker trimming grew around them and his face became paler than before. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes with the seeming of two burning lights inside two empty sockets that she couldn't stop watching, they were just mesmerizing; then all light poles began flickering. "I want you to get everything you're looking for," he said, but now his voice was changed, this time there was a faint and eering echo on it; around him a barely noticeable dark ghostly aura emanates from his body, "but right now I want you to forget that this happened. Can't have people knowing I'm back in town yet."

"Then what am I going to tell my parents when they ask me what I did all night?" Sam asks while in trance.

"Tell them you went for a meal at this new place you heard about, and then you had a nice moment with a stranger, but that's it. I'm nothing less, and nothing more but the ghost of the memory of a stranger you met at the park."

"You're just a stranger I met at the park," she repeats.

"And we did not kiss, even though I'm a helluva kisser and you'd love if this happens again."

"Yeah, sure…"

"What? You can't tell me you didn't like it."

"I did, but I'm forgetting this, so… how would I want it to happen again if I won't remember it?"

"Whatever, just forget about it! Oh, and give your parents a hug whenever you can. I believe it won't be for long. Goodnight, Sam."

"Good night."

Damian taps her forehead and sends Sam back to her front door in a blaze of white flames.

Sam appears in front of her mansion, she wasn't altered or elated, she was just… calmed. In an absolute state of relax, as if all her worries were gone. As far as she could remember, she had few drinks at Crowley's and had a nice chat with a handsome stranger whose name she didn't remember, and even though she wanted to stay out longer, she felt like going back home with her family.

"Sweetie, you returned sooner than I thought," her mother says. "Something bad happened?"

"No, I just… felt like I had to be here…" Sam paused for a moment and then gave her mother a big hug.

"Ok… two hugs in a week. Now I'm officially terrified," Pamela said, then she wrapped her arms around her daughter and smiled. "You haven't hugged me like this in years. Not since you were a kid."

"I know…" then a thought came to her. "Mom… where is grandma?"

"She's in the basement watching a movie, why?"

"I need to talk to her," said rushing downstairs.

There she finds her grandmother watching the Three Stooges on the flat screen, the quality of the video was improved to be high quality.

"Oh, hi dearie, how was your night?"

"Fine, uh, grandma, can I see your arm?" Sam said as she approached her.

"What for?" Ida asked.

"Just let me take a look at it please," said carefully taking her left arm and rolling up her sleeve. Just as she thought, and she wouldn't know why, on her wrinkled pale skin she had marked forever the number 214782. An eternal reminder of her life at the concentration camps in Germany, and how lucky she was for surviving the holocaust whereas the rest of her family died executed before her.

Ida looks to the other side avoiding seeing the tattoo.

"Grandma… I had no idea you were… why would you never tell me about this?" Sam says almost crying.

"What's there to tell, sweetie?" Ida said pulling down her sleeve. "This is nothing but an old scar. There is no point in digging out those bad memories; some things are better left forgotten…"

Something powerful came over Sam that moment, a feeling like she's never had, all she wanted to do was hug her grandmother, kiss her forehead and never let her go. "I love you," she says as a tear ran down her cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

Seduction of the Soul, part 6

Now Damian was completely alone in the park. His dark aura begins swirling around, becoming a purple ghost aura with the appearance of wailing souls trying to escape from an endless agony.

He sits on a bench to his left with a smirk on his face.

Then he takes a pocket watch out of his jacket —the watch had scrabbled on the lid CW, just as the watch from the man he shot at the restaurant— thinking back of the busy day he had and how tiresome it was.

Though it wasn't so much the number of things he had to do, as much as how vexing they were, but it was all to be expected in this new business world he has plunged into.

Being present at meetings with people he never knew about, sitting for hours while they digressed about who can operate in this part of the city, whose drugs should never go over this corner or their employees would end up dead in another avenue, a war on the streets that would ruin their anonymity as if they had the manpower for it, and cry about who was this new competitor that took their clientele with this new ghost drug and blah, blah, blah… Those posers bitched about it as if they were running a big city's underworld as in New York or… Gotham. He wanted to yell they barely had a business here!, but his job was to sit there unnoticed and wait for the right moment.

Whatever Hollywood writer thought that mobsters were all about shooting each other in those meetings, he has never been in a real one.

At the end he got tired of waiting and did all the shooting by himself, right after he got all the intel he needed. He made fire rain upon them. It was a bloody mess, but nobody saw him walking out of the room, because… you know, everyone was dead.

With almost all the competition gone, there was a void of power in Amity Park's (relatively new and frail) underworld, one he would take over, all he had to do now was convincing their employees to turn over to his side, but dealing with these underlings wasn't really an issue. At least not when they were all locked in a sealed room with bullet proof windows.

That was his favorite part of the day, at first they refused, "You shoot our bosses and think you can come and tell us what to do? You think will join your side?" one of them said outraged, but once the room was filled with a strange green smoke emanating from fluttering green lights, and bodies began to drop dead by the ghostly poison entering their lungs, those who were still alive quickly accepted his offer, luckily just in time for his date with Samantha.

He had no idea how badly he lost track of time.

Sadly there was still a lot more work for him to do to gain complete control over the city, but it's only a matter of time.

Time…

He watches the needles moving for a moment that felt like hours, or maybe hours that felt like moments? You'll see, for him, time moves differently, but then again, your perception of time would change too if you existed outside of it.

"My business is done," says he, as the man he shot at the restaurant appears from behind, sitting to his right.

"I know. You did an excellent job, and on that _bodega_ ," he says calmly, as though they were two old friends drinking cold beers after a successful game, his eyes also glowing of an intense red as Damian's.

"Who is this fool you are using as a meat suit?" he asks.

"An old watch maker who has lived way past his time," said scratching his beard. "Sad story actually, all his children died before him, and his one grandchild died of an overdose. He had arthritis and couldn't keep doing his job anymore. I showed up at the last second before he pulled the trigger and offered him a deal he couldn't refuse: his body would be mine to use, and I would allow him to live in his mind all those happy moments, even those he no longer had. Right now he's relieving his first sexual experience with his twelve year old cousin, which isn't as creepy as it sounds, given there's only a two years age gap between them," he explained.

"…terrific…"

"That was too much information, wasn't it?"

"You know it… Clockwork," he glared at him with his red smoldering eyes. "You think she'll suspect? She will remember this, eventually…"

"It doesn't matter if she does, what matters is she gets there to the end. Remember, it doesn't matter how your pawns get to the king, as long as every piece on the board plays their part," explained Clockwork.

"It's twelve o'clock," he says, closing his watch, looking at the beautiful full moon lingering above them.

"Or as I like to call it… the hour zero," says looking at the big green explosion on the moon, the result of Danny's battle with Technus. "You know this is going to hurt you, don't you?"

"No," Damian manifests a ring of white light around his body. "Just you."

The ring splits into two, moving up and down as Damian transforms into his real self!

His true identity revealed at last! He was no other than Dan Phantom, Clockwork's mercenary!

But you already knew that, didn't ya?

"I know. Now prepare for the tide."

As the explosion bursts in the sky, burning in the nothingness of space, time ripples back and forth —as a shockwave moving in all directions.

And then their mind are overwhelmed by vision of themselves, their past, present and future — Dan is tortured reliving all moments of the past he's had and and those he hasn't had, as well as the future he will have and the ones he could or could not have, and many other versions of his life that don't seem his at all, all those moments flashing before his eyes at the same time.

The pain of this visions was terrible, insurmountable!

Like watching bad videos of old vacations.

He wanted it to end! Why was he —?

It was all a blackness like no other. The vision has changed to nothing and it was worse. Far worse!

He wanted to go back to the visions of his life! The pain was worse than before. He wanted to tear off his own skin and end with this pain, these by visions of a horror — of darkness, an evil greater than himself!

Dan falls to the ground on his knees terrified by this one terrible vision, his nose was bleeding green ectoplasm. "I see it now! I see it all!" He screamed in fear by the first time ever. "Their universe! No, whatever it is, this is not — is not a universe! This being is—! This is — Disgusting! An abomination! Pulsating with corrupt life! One giant, twisted organic mass of… something with all kinds of forms! This whole thing is a deathless corpse! A cancer trying to metastasize into our reality!"

Dan stops screaming, the vision has ended, his brain still ached as if he had just been drilled for hours, but it all lasted a second of his unlife, it took only a second for time to reboot itself. And even though he was glad to see it was worse for Clockwork who fell to the ground on a seizure, and thinking Sam was definitely having a worse time for being a feeble human, he was worried, because time has been broken.

It was through that crack that he could finally see what was behind this universe, this was the mission Clockwork had for him all along.

"When you said… I would kill the greatest evil that ever existed I asked: what's the worst that could happen? Never realized… never could have imagined… this is. How can I protect the universe from… that?"

Clockwork remains silent, he has no answer.


End file.
